


Eastwise

by secondkey



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (somewhat), Case Fic, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hank hasn't shown up yet, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-06-01 15:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondkey/pseuds/secondkey
Summary: Connor asks Captain Fowler for a job. He gets one, then two, and oh, now there’s three. One of those may or may not be being a son. Another may or may not include rubbing his deviancy into his former (owner? boss? mind-controlling creator?) into Cyberlife’s face.Connor doesn’t really know how to feel about any of this, but that’s not new. No, wait, that is too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo. This is based off Jacksepticeye's videos, so for timeline that means Connor and Hank are buddies but not family, Connor and Reed never had an altercation of any sort besides Reed being a bad person, Markus was completely pacifist, androids are freeee. Connor broke free of Amanda. Kara, Alice, and Luthor are in Canada. Unfortunately, Simon is dead. I don't know enough about him at this point to include him in the story, but if I do by the time he would show up he might just show up.

The Detroit City Police Station looked just as it had before the whole world had been turned on it’s head. Almost two months after the fateful day of November 11th, so many changes had been pushed through at the state and federal level that Connor had thought that maybe this place, at which he had spent so much time before everything, should have changed as well. But of course that was unrealistic, so Connor dismissed the thought. Even the weather was still the same. Late December snow was glittering on the pavement, swept to the sides of the stairs, and frost clouded the windows. As Connor stepped out from his taxi, ice melted from the heat of the car and the warmth inside dripped onto his hair and jacket sleeve.  
  
Connor brushed it off, stepping unto the sidewalk and adjusting his tie as the taxi drove itself away behind him. He ran his fingers through his hair to hide the droplets and try to arrange it into neatness, hoping the water might help his curl stay off his forehead for once. The sleeve of his jacket didn’t look noticeably different, and he flicked off the remaining water as he ascended the steps to the front doors or the station. Looking professional was very important for interviews.  
  
The front room was deserted but for a sole presence behind the welcome desk at the far end. The shades were all drawn back to let what natural light there was though the tall windows, but the black waiting chairs around the room were empty. Connor didn’t sense too many more presences behind the heavy doors leading into the building proper, but that was to be expected. Who was sitting behind the desk before him, on the other hand, wasn’t.  
  
“Officer Williams,” Connor greeted, and was amused with how the man seemed to lurch from where he was nodding off into his coffee. “Good morning. Why are you at the front desk today? ”  
  
“Wha— Connor? Wow, never thought I’d see you again.” A beat later, Officer Williams’ surprise seemed to fade into alarm and he rushed to clarify his statement, turning his chair towards Connor and raising his hands for emphasis. “Not in a bad way, I mean, I just heard that Anderson’s case had been sent over to the FBI and then you guys both disappeared and what with the revolution and all I thought you’d be done here or… worse… uh, they’ve asked all the androids to leave, so a couple of us are filling in until they hire more secretaries, I guess. Jameson is here, too, actually, but he’s on break right now.”  
  
“I see,” Connor replied, glancing at the computers behind the desk. Sure enough, all but the one Officer Williams was using and the one designated for the desk manager on shift were powered off, areas around them cleared out and empty.  
  
The silence stretched out between them, but Connor didn’t have anything he needed to say. The way Officer Williams’ mouth had twitched into a frown, forehead creasing as his own eyes flickered over the blank screens beside him suggested he felt uncomfortable but also slightly lost. Connor took a moment to appreciate how efficient conversations with expressive people were. Officer Williams seemed lost in thought, but a moment later he blinked and cleared his throat. “Right. Door.”  
  
Officer Williams swung his chair around and typed a command into the system, then nodded Connor towards the door. Connor stepped forward and considered his hand, releasing the skin around it and holding it to the ID scanner. The screen flashed and beeped and the door popped open. Though that was exactly what had happened the number of times Connor had been here whilst under Cyberlife’s employ, he had to admit he had not been expecting his handprint to still be in the system.  
  
The fact that is was suggested that someone had decided or argued to keep it on file. Connor had a suspicion as to who it was. The idea made his steps feel surer where he hadn’t realized they’d been hesitant before, and he reached for the door with renewed determination.  
  
“Hey, Conner?” Conner paused just through the door to glance back with a steady expression. Officer Williams was smiling sheepishly at him, apparently having just taken a deep sip of coffee. “It’s good to have you back.”  
  
Connor nodded in acknowledgement, letting the doors fall shut behind him. A hallway was before him. Down to the end of the hallway, left at the split, and the first door on the left, he ran into no-one else, but as the door to the office space that had become so familiar to him opened, one or two people looked up from their desks, each startling in surprise to see him, glancing amongst themselves and Captain Fowler’s office. Connor stared impassively around the office until they returned to their work, noting that at least Officer Jakobs, Officer Greene, and Detective Grey didn’t seem to have any anti-android sentiments.  
  
Connor made his way around the desks to the Captain’s office. As he did, he glanced around the room, confirming that all of the android stations had been vacated, but also that none of them had any traces of thirium, either. When the androids had been asked to leave, the result had been peaceful. Connor didn’t know if that was due to Markus’ advocacy for peaceful protest, or Captain Fowler’s influence, or a mixture of the two, but he found himself glad.  
  
Connor turned to knock on the doors of the Captain’s office, smoothing his hair back one last time, and waited.  
  
“Come in,” the Captain beckoned, and Connor pushed the opaque glass open.  
  
“Captain Fowler,” he greeted, and at his voice the Captain immediately looked up from his work. Heavy bags were under his eyes, and he was slumped slightly over his desk, but he straightened up as Connor stepped through the door.  
  
“By God, it’s you,” he said, in a tone that was neither friendly nor unfriendly but certainly surprised. He stood up from his seat and gestured Connor to the chair across from him. With a nod in thanks, Connor took the seat, falling comfortably into his ramrod-straight posture and allowing the Captain to examine him. His brows had raised but lowered again in careful professionalism. His pulse and breathing were even, but his eyes flickered between Connor’s and Connor’s LED. When he began to look a little chastising, Connor realized he was studying the Captain a bit too closely and backed off.  
  
“Well?” Captain Fowler opened, sitting back down and spreading his hands. “What brings you back here? I see you still have your LED.”  
  
“Yes,” Connor agreed. “I was hoping to acquire some form of employment.”  
  
“You’re asking me for a job?”  
  
“Detective work is one of my main functions, Captain. It’s what I was designed for,” Connor reminded him. “I would like to return to it as soon as possible.”  
  
The Captain did not reply, studying him evenly. After a long moment, he sighed. “You are aware the whole city saw you there at the protest?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you are aware there are bound to be some people who… disapprove of your presence here, because of that.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“They will disapprove greatly.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And you still think I should let you back on the force?”  
  
“With all due respect, Captain,” Connor began, tilting his chin, “I am an android. That androids should be given civil rights is something I agree with, and something I have tried to help ensure. These facts do nothing to change that I am CyberLife’s greatest achievement when it comes to crime scene analysis, deduction, interrogation, negotiation… Also, with all the humans fleeing the city, you’re understaffed. If not for anything else, you need me because of that.”  
  
The Captain leant back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. “A compelling argument, but how can we trust you? Though we do not know the extent of your involvement in the revolution, the fact still remains that you just rebelled against just about every level of authority that there is.”  
  
“I have not gone rouge, captain.” Connor said, leaning forward in his own chair. “I will not disobey your orders or commands just to prove a point.”  
  
“But you might still disobey them,” the Captain pointed out, not missing a beat.  
  
“If the situation warrants it, for the good of the mission, you may just want me to, if I know something you don’t,” Connor retorted. “Has Lt. Anderson obeyed every order he’s ever been given? My logic programming can tell between when the situation needs disobedience and when it does not.”  
  
“Alright, look,” the Captain said, raising a hand to stop him. “This is what I can do for you. I can’t just let an android on the force after what just happened, especially one who just admitted it might disobey us.”  
  
“One who just admitted that it shall be the same as any human employee from here on out, and asks you to respect that,” Connor interrupted. At the frown on Captain Fowler’s face, he cut himself off and ducked his head in apology. Already Connor had said much more than he was used to, but he had come here ready for a logical fight. The Captain hadn’t disappointed, and so far, he seemed to respect Connor’s reasoning. Connor gestured for him to continue.  
  
“You’ve got guts, I have to admit,” the Captain said, shaking his head. “Alright, here’s what I can do for you. Get back to the desk you were using during the deviant investigations with Lt. Anderson and print the employee application forms from the server. Drop them off at records and we’ll let you know when they’re processed. You’ll be given starting pay, standard benefits, the works.”  
  
“Thank you, Captain,” Connor said, “though I doubt I’ll find much worth in the health insurance.”  
  
Captain Fowler gave him a look, like he wasn’t sure if Connor was joking with him or not, then sighed. “Bring it up with HR. But, look, one more thing…”  
  
“Yes?” Connor prompted when the Captain trailed off, a deep frown on his face.  
  
“You’re a good detective,” the Captain began, and something about his tone told Connor he wouldn’t be pleased with what he was about to hear, “but I can’t just put you back on the force. Not now. Your application will be judged just like all the rest, so make it a good one. If it goes through, I’ll have you assigned to phone operations. You are equipped with the certified programs, correct?”  
  
“Yes, Captain, but—”  
  
“It’s the best I can do,” the Captain said, spreading his hands. “You androids need to rebuild trust with the public, and putting an android on the beat would be like throwing the precinct to the wolves, not to mention the position you’d be in. You’d invite violence just by going outside.”  
  
Connor had nothing to say to that.  
  
“So, phone operations. You’ll have an active part in the community, and your temperament is certainly suited for it. Phone operations demands efficiency and empathy. I think you’ll find it’s a good way to build your public relations.” The Captain waited for Connor to say something, so after a pause, Connor nodded, blank.  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“This isn’t a punishment,” the Captain continued. “The situation is just bigger than any of us, now. And it’s this or a secretary.”  
  
“I’ll take it,” Connor said. He nodded again. “I do understand.”  
  
“Good,” the Captain asserted. “Down the road, I hope to promote you back to active duty.” Connor blinked, and the Captain must’ve caught his surprise, because he chuckled and explained, “you said it yourself: you’re a fantastic investigator. And you’re a good influence on Hank, that idiot. But we all need to be careful.”  
  
“Of course, sir, thank you,” Connor said, standing from his seat. “I’ll get started on my application. I shall also write up a full report on the revolution.”  
  
“You do that,” the Captain said, waving him out.

[Get Job]  
|Fill out application  
|Drop application at HR

“What is this supposed to be, a late Christmas present? The return of our shiny plastic toy?” Connor closed his eyes, briefly, at the voice piping up behind him. In his hands were the application pages, and he had passed by the little kitchen on his way to human resources, apparently attracting some unwanted attention. Steeling himself, Connor turned to level Detective Reed an even look.  
  
“Send it back, it’s not wanted here,” the Detective continued, smirking with a tinge of disbelief.  
  
“I prefer to think of it as a New Year’s Revolution, on my own behalf,” Connor replied. He paused. “Pardon me, did I say revolution? I meant resolution. Since androids now have equal rights, getting a job seems to be the next logical step.”  
  
Detective Reed finally noticed the papers he was holding. “Is that a _job_ application? No way.”  
  
“It is unusual for you to be here so early, Detective,” Connor said, instead. “It’s not even seven.”  
  
“Ugh, just getting in, actually. All these idiots running around, rioting and making a mess of things…” he trailed off, running a hand down his face, then saw how Connor was staring at him. “What’re you looking at?” he bristled.  
  
“I’m surprised,” Connor said. “That was almost friendly.”  
  
“Pshaw, yeah, right, you’re _surprised_ ,” Dt. Reed scoffed. “Simulating your own emotions now huh? No— don’t tell me, I don’t actually care.”  
  
“Could’ve fooled me.” A beat after the joke slipped out, Connor wished he could retract it with all of the resignation he now possessed. The Detective stared at him in what seemed to be horror in addition to his usual disgust.  
  
“What was that?” Dt. Reed demanded with growing irritation. “Are you tryin’a pick a fight, you worthless piece of plastic? Christ, it’s like having a paper shredder try to talk back to me.”  
  
“Detective Reed…” Connor replies, “I find you very unpleasant.” Dt. Reed’s jaw dropped, eyebrows shooting up in an almost comical display of affront.  
  
“Excuse me,” Connor said, and without waiting for him to recollect his thoughts, he stepped crisply around Dt. Reed, resuming his HR mission.  
  
The HR department didn’t open until 9:00, but Connor made sure his papers were all in order, paper-clipped them and slid them into the dropbox just outside the door. All done. He updated his objective list.

[Set up Life]  
|Find place to stay  
\Get job\\{complete}  
|Review dispatcher programs  
|Write report on Nov. 11  
|Become member of society

Connor found himself with an entire day’s worth of free time. Best case scenario would have been that he could resume work that day, but now he had no other plans. This wasn’t entirely unexpected— of course, it was one of the nine most likely outcomes he had anticipated— so Connor just ordered another cab to come pick him up. He had been ignoring that first task for far too long, simply hanging around at Jericho and hoping they wouldn’t confront him about it. Since he should have enough money soon to look at a small place for himself, it was time to talk to Markus about a concrete plan until then.  
  
It was still very early, and little light made it to the ground through the thick snow clouds that were hanging over the city. Patches of light were starting to scatter over the ground, but it didn’t look like it would get much brighter that day, and everything was grey and heavy.  
  
The cold didn’t really have an effect on Connor, so he waited on the stairs for the cab. By the time it arrived, small flurries had started collecting in Connor’s hair, and he didn’t care to brush them off before taking a seat.  
  
The car pulled away from the curb. The drive to Jericho took approximately 42 minutes, but that was more than enough time to have a whole symphony of thoughts for someone whose brain processed upwards of 8 exaflops per second.

Connor stared out the window, watching the snow swirl past the car in streaks and whirls as it usually did. Taking his coin from his pocket, Connor rolled it around and began to think. While he had his own evaluation of the situation, he sent the data over to his heavier processors and gave it a thorough look-over. That is to say, he gave it some deep thought.  
  
Why had he acted out against Detective Reed in that way?  
{evaluation of current relationship (poor)  
{evaluation of workplace dynamic (interference, but collaboration not expected)  
{predictive analysis of future projects together (unlikely)  
{analysis of Dt. Reed’s state at time of incident (tired -ping: “idiots running around” -flag stored  
{analysis of how incident will effect relationship (Dt. Reed(hostile) V)  
= estimated scenario projection ready (26 prepared possibilities)  
  
His sub-processors had apparently deemed that the relationship had no need to improve, and that actively making it worse didn’t matter, unless it got much, much worse, which was covered in scenarios 23-26, with more options to estimate if the unit wanted?  
  
No, that would be unnecessary, Connor decided, and declined the command. So, not much had been changed, as he had suspected. Why, then, had he done it? Why make a pointless action?  
  
He watched the snow melt against the window and carefully turned his attention to how he was… feeling, LED flickering yellow.  
  
{analysis of RK800#313 248 317-52’s opinion: emotion identified: irritated with Dt. Reed’s attitude  
  
~~//{Software Instability}~~  
  
Connor ignored the warning that popped up in the corner of his vision and sat back to consider this new information, flicking the coin between his hands.  
  
He was irritated.  
  
He had insulted a man, a completely pointless endeavor, just because he had been irritated.  
  
Connor almost felt irritated with himself thinking about it. He never would have been this reckless before. Should he expect emotions to involve themselves in every situation from here on out? That seemed unnecessary and risky. Could he trust himself to stay levelheaded in high-stress situations? Surely his own desire, programmed or not, for high-quality work would keep him focused. Emotions probably won’t be too much of a problem, Connor decided, once he learned to identify and control them all.  
  
Still, it was strange, when he thought about it. He had some sort of variable “emotion” buried so deep inside him, threaded throughout and constructed from all of his memories, that his own code could now be a variable in his own code. This ‘opinion’ business was virtually invisible and yet still so influential.  
  
It was important to evaluate his… emotional state often, Connor concluded. He couldn’t be undermined like this again.  
  
Stress levels were sufficiently low, at 14%. All systems were fine, power charge was fine. To be expected. But emotionally? Look for the hidden variables, the way decisions were weighted oh-so-slightly in one direction over the rest, culminating after several judgements in an action that didn’t make perfect sense.  
  
Connor was no expert, but he seemed to be riding a sort of wave of satisfaction, a fluctuation of his base state that had begun the day that androids were granted rights that reappeared sometimes to influence his decisions. He couldn’t think of any particular way in which his actions had greatly deviated from the norm, or even from what he might have done when he was still an ‘it’ and not a ‘he’, had he been more bold, but he had to admit, saying that to Dt. Reed had been… good.  
  
It had been petty, and rude, and may damage their future interactions. It was certainly not Cyberlife’s perfect human integration initiative programming talking.  
  
It was him.  
  
‘It’ was ‘him.’  
  
Connor looked down at the coin tumbling across his fingertips, and felt a buzzing feeling in his chest, like a hummingbird flitting nervously at the open door of its cage, in, out, in and out.  
  
He never used to make similes before. His first attempt had been little heavy-handed. He would like to improve.

|Work on similes

The people of Jericho, through hours of tireless effort on the behalf of Markus, an android named Josh, and several human volunteers, had been given an entire apartment building in which to live. The 15-story building had just finished construction when the revolution happened, and after a few clever agreements had been struck, the surviving androids of Jericho had moved in, just shy of December. Markus and his team ran the place, and they had their hands full between negotiating with Cyberlife, various governments, and the new androids that showed up every day.  
      
Connor had found himself dropping his few possessions in a random room, not paying it much mind as he ran around acting as a sort of bodyguard for Markus in the early days following the revolution. After the android named North had quickly set up a schedule of android security agents to watch the new Jericho, and then took to watching Markus herself, however, Markus had encouraged him to look through the building and put some thought into where he would like to stay.  
  
Connor had found his things and moved into a smaller room on the West side of the building, on the top floor, with a window overlooking the city. Jericho was more on the outskirts of the town, near the waterfront, and with the building being only about two-thirds full, all the apartments surrounding his were empty. This, combined with the stairwell and fire escape nearby, made it very easy for Connor to slip in and out without disturbing anyone should he be called away at an odd hour of the night.  
  
Or at least, Connor predicted it would, because without a job he hadn’t exactly been needed for anything, middle of the night or day or what.  
  
By the time he arrived at the Jericho building, Connor found that much of his drive had deflated. For some reason, as he walked up the the doors, his steps felt heavy. Not acquiring a job immediately felt somewhat like failing a mission, but Connor silenced that association with a slight scowl, smoothing his face back out. It was unlikely that Markus would be upset with him for not being able to move out as soon as anticipated, right?  
  
Unbidden, a memory called back to him of his own words: “statistically speaking, there’s always a chance…”  
  
Connor pushed through the doors to the lobby before he could find an excuse not to, feeling stiff, and immediately scanned it mostly out of habit. He relaxed minutely when he saw that no androids were there besides the security on duty. Most of the Jericho androids, if they hadn’t applied for or gotten a job like Connor, preferred to spend their time in the large social hall they had made by knocking down some walls on the 1st floor and the floor to the basement, creating a two-tiered room similar to the one in ship-Jericho.  
  
Connor inclined his head to the android behind the desk and strode right over to the elevator, standing against the back with his hands clasped before him.  
  
On the fifth floor, someone else got on. An ST300, still in her original uniform, holding a large armful of freshly cleaned, folded clothes. As she stepped into the elevator, she shuffled the pile, trying to nudge the top shirt into a more balanced position.  
  
“Could you hit 12, please?” She asked, muffled behind the clothes.  
  
Connor stepped forward and hit the button, and the doors slid shut. After a few moments of watching the ST300 fuss with the wobbling tower, Connor reached out and fixed the top shirts.  
  
“Oh, thanks,” she said, shifting the clothes one last time. Apparently satisfied, she turned to face the door, so she could look sideways and see Connor.  
  
Upon doing so, however, her easy if perhaps a bit professional smile fell from her face, her eyes widening. From the corner of this eye, Connor saw her eyes flicker from his own uniform and the RK800 upon it to his face, then back down, then to where his LED was hidden by being on the virtue of being on the other side of his face than her.  
Tilting his head, Connor turned to look back at her, but she took a step back, an all-too familiar crease appearing between her eyebrows. He quickly looked away, and ignored how she shifted so the pile of clothes was on her right hip, hiding her from his view and presumably him from hers.  
  
Connor surreptitiously hit the button for the next floor. The elevator immediately began to slow, and Connor left as soon as the doors were open wide enough.  
  
He took the stairs. He kept his head down until he reached his apartment.  
  
Connor kept his key in the same pocket as his coin, but it almost seemed unnecessary given that he had little in the way of possessions and cared even less about having a ‘home’. Nevertheless, he took care not to loose it, and unlocked his door only to lock it immediately again behind him.  
  
The interior of the room was dark, but Connor saw the light streaming from under the door to the bedroom and knew it was only the shutters over the window keeping it so. Connor flicked the lights on and crossed the room to the chair he used most often.  
  
He had meant to talk to Markus, but in the pressure to avoid any encounters like the one in the elevator— or any more, he supposed— he had rushed up here without looking for him. Perhaps he could send him a message, instead.  
  
Connor closed his eyes to better focus, hands on his knees and almost leaning forward. Each android open to receiving signals sent out their own signal signature in periodic intervals. Connor just had to find Markus’ from within the 1,235 androids that lived in Jericho.  
  
It was a hopeless mess. All the androids in the social hall were blending together, and their combined presence overwhelmed all but a few in their rooms, farther from the hall, each of which Connor quickly determined was not Markus. Trying to find him in hall itself was like listening to an orchestra all sending out different notes, repeating them in a constant pattern but at different times, so the notes overlapped, fit between each other, in and out of phase by just the smallest bit or completely, and trying to find the one cello. Just listening to it for a couple moments made Connor pull away, and he opened his eyes to his dark room, disoriented.  
  
Markus might not even be in the building. He should’ve asked one of the androids on security. He should probably just go down and find everyone. But what if they asked him to leave as soon as possible?  
  
They wouldn’t, right? Probably not, but even bringing up the topic would no doubt remind them that he was still around, would give them a day to look forward to, would make every day between now and then seem even more grating. And he didn’t even know when he could move out, just yet. The more Connor thought about it, the more preemptive the conversation seemed. If he went to them with the information he didn’t have right now, they wouldn’t just kick him out, right?  
  
…Maybe it could wait until his first paycheck came in.  
  
Just in case.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor starts a new job. He has an interesting conversation.

The main dispatch station was fifteen minutes from the precinct station, and it was tiny, in comparison. Connor supposed it made sense— no need for the large meeting rooms or holding cells, no vaults for evidence. Just two rooms of cubicles divided by noise-dampening walls, a few private offices, bathrooms, and a break room at the end of the hallway. There wasn’t even a front desk— Connor had been met by a shift lead who sat him down at one of the cubicles, giving him a rundown of what would be expected of him and what he could expect and so on, then handed him off to another operator, who had been just getting off their shift, for a tour with a reassuring pat on the back.  
  
Connor drummed his fingers on his new desk, eyes flicking between the forms the lead had informed him he would need to fill out upon coming in for his second first day and the multitude of screens before him. Both were standard fare: Computer Aided Dispatch system with question prompts, maps, and responder communication and tracking, and paperwork to finish setting up his new job.  
  
Only problem was, they were standard fare for human employees. Connor didn’t need half of these monitors, and he didn’t have a social security number. Someone had crossed it off on the paperwork, but neglected to scratch out the other questions he couldn’t answer. He supposed he did have an address now, but what should he put for his birthday? Date of manufacture? Date of activation? Should he put his activation, or the first Connor whose memory had been transferred down the line until he, the current Connor, and the one who had held Lt. Anderson hostage, had imported it— Mk. 51? Either way, would he be a minor or adult employee, considering he was technically only four— almost five, now— months old?  
  
He filled out what he could, but many of the other questions posed the same difficulty. Bank account for direct deposit authorization? He didn’t have a bank account, either. He didn’t have anything.  
  
And it wasn’t like he needed the money. To be honest, he didn’t know why he suddenly decided he needed a job. It seemed like all the others at Jericho liked not having to follow the direction of a human, and here he was seeking out the regulation and chain of command of the police force. The four days he had needed to wait before being called in for his first day had seemed to pass deceptively slowly, but with the way his morning was turning out, he didn’t think that strange time-dilating phenomena was going to stop any time soon.  
  
Connor shook the thoughts from his mind before he got too existential and turned his attention back to the screens instead. He’d been given early shifts for the foreseeable future, and 9:14am on New Year’s Eve was turning out to be rather quiet.  
  
Connor chanced a glance around the room. The few other operators were quiet, bleary eyed with morning lethargy. Judging by the mug handle Connor could just see behind her and the rings of condensation on her desk, the operator nearest Connor was on her third cup. A clear voice, slightly muffled by distance and the dampening walls indicated that another had taken a call, and was guiding someone through what sounded like a minor incident.  
  
Connor’s own line hadn’t rung all morning, though supposedly it was activated before he had been returned to his station after the brief tour of the office. Connor hadn’t been able to tell if the operator who had shown him around had been irritated with having to give a tour to an android, or because they had to give a tour at all when they could be at home sleeping, but he could and would figure it out later. He was working on making a mental map of who here was an ally, neutral party, or to be avoided, and so far it was 0 to 4 to 3, with 2 undecided.  
  
Such a list had helped him back at Jericho, when he had been more involved, with making sure his presence there was the least bothersome as possible. He knew from experience it could come in handy when meeting new people or when in a pinch.  
  
One of the new rules that had come into play when androids had been given full worker’s rights was that they, just like their human coworkers, had to be given breaks.  
  
So, at precisely 11:30, Connor went on a break.  
  
Before… everything, an android’s ‘break’ would have been staring at a wall, or at nothing, or at the back of another android’s head in a line as they waited dutifully to be used. Connor’s own nights had often been similar.  
  
Now, with half an hour of mandated free time, Connor had nothing to do. He didn’t need to eat, and there was nothing else in his life he needed to attend to or even wonder about.  
  
But he should do something, right? He was free to do whatever he wanted. He should want to do something.  
  
Connor found himself outside, back on the front steps, and had a moment where he wondered if what he wanted was to leave. But then the light diffusing off the snow caught his eye, and he stood there for twenty-five minutes just watching. Flurries were falling slowly, grayish-yellow light scattered through the clouds to shine off of the tall glass and metal around him. Patches of it made it to glimmer on the greying snow piled around on the ground, pushed off the to sides by plows and the choppy strokes of hand-held shovels. It was beautiful, and then it was nothing but drab grey-on-grey, nothing new, nothing useful.  
  
As he stood there, the unsettling need for some unknown thing that had built in the silence of the people around him did not ease. But it did still, ceasing to grow more but not shrinking to less, simmering in the whirr of his processes. It was boredom to a harrowing extent. It was lethargy. It was the need to do something but having nothing to do. It was the need to do something, but everything Connor could think of was not that thing. It was the reason Connor was doing what he was doing, but he didn’t understand it.  
  
He didn’t like it.  
  
He stood there mentally fidgeting, but nothing happened. He kept expecting someone to address him, someone to turn the corner and pick their way through the snow with distaste. But no one was there.  
  
As his break came to an end nothing had changed, so at precisely five minutes to noon he made an about-face and headed back inside. He chuffed his shoes on the mat inside, scraping off the slush and water, and headed to his desk, where a ping in his mind drew his attention, and he spared a thought to check it. A message from Markus.  
  
The sight of it was so unexpected that Connor stared at the monitors for several seconds, scrolling through the latest reports, before actually opening it.  
  
{I have a meeting with Cyberlife at 1400 today,} it read. {and would appreciate your help.}  
  
Markus’ negotiations with Cyberlife had been stilted at best, up to this point, but he had somehow managed to wrangle some very important agreements, especially near the beginning. If he was asking for Connor’s help, it must be something either very important or very unusual. Connor somehow doubted his own negotiation skills would be quite as useful against the very corporation that had programmed and flouted them, but it was Markus asking, and…  
  
{Where?}  
  
{At Cyberlife Tower.}  
  
{That is not standard.}  
  
{It is not a standard meeting.}  
  
{Off the record?}  
  
{Quite on it, actually.} Another message came in before Connor could respond. {Cyberlife doesn’t want to hold this one in a neutral environment. Concerns about third-party reception of sensitive information.}  
  
{So instead you’re meeting them somewhere under their complete control.}  
  
{Well, yes.}  
  
The third and rather more likely option for why Markus might be enlisting Connor was that this meeting would be very dangerous, and Connor was needed as a protection detail, as he had appointed himself back in the days following the revolution. Connor would say he was surprised that this role should be reprised for one in a long string of meetings with Cyberlife, but it was Cyberlife, so he wasn’t. Their behavior had certainly been flawless in the eyes of the law since the revolution, but it was painfully clear that they were unhappy with how things turned out, bitter that they hadn’t been able to stop it. Connor wasn’t sure what Markus was thinking, really, bringing him along. Their own perfect tool for crushing the android rebellion had instead helped it, and bringing it along to negotiate Cyberlife's losses?  
  
There was another ping from Markus, since he had failed to respond. {I truly would appreciate your company there.}  
  
{As a bodyguard? Or a negotiator?}  
  
{How about as a friend?}  
  
Connor took that to mean both.  
  
{I’ll be there,} he replied, then stood from his desk. His shift ended at 2:00, so he’d have to ask to leave a bit early to make Markus’ meeting on time. Not ideal for a first shift, but his new boss, Officer Mikel, seemed rather more understanding than most. He could hear her keyboard clicking, so he made his way to her office.  
  
“Officer Mikel?” Connor called, sotto voce. A murmur through the door beckoned him into the small corner room, and he stepped in.  
  
Officer Mikel sat at her desk, reading through something on her screen. As Connor came in, a fax machine in the corner spat out a couple pages, and she rolled her chair over to pick them up, putting them on the table to give Connor her attention. When he hovered before the desk, she gestured at the chair.  
  
“Have a seat, Connor,” Officer Mikel offered. “What do you need?”  
  
“My presence has been requested for a meeting at 1400,” Connor began, sitting primly in the proffered chair. “I would need to leave before then to make it.”  
  
“You want to get off a little early?” Officer Mikel asked, turning to pull up the schedule on her computer. “Hmm.”  
  
“It is my first shift, so I do apologize,” Connor said. “I could come back later for a couple hours?”  
  
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Officer Mikel said, scanning the schedule. “We have enough people coming in as it is. The schedule was made before you joined us, by the way, so there’s no trouble at all in having you leave a little early.”  
  
“Half an hour early,” Connor told her.  
  
“Okay, half an hour,” Officer Mikel agreed. She turned back to Connor to smile at him, and Connor was immediately struck with a strange observation that she looked, somehow, quite similar to Amanda and yet quite different at the same time. They wore their hair in the same way, and Officer Mikel had the same authoritative posture to her shoulders as Amanda had. But Officer Mikel was smiling at him, and somehow, even though Amanda had certainly done so as well in the past, there was a welcoming warmth to Officer Mikel’s eyes that had never been there in Amanda’s.  
  
“…Thank you,” Connor said, after a pause. He tried to convey to her with his eyes that he wished to be dismissed.  
  
“While I have you here, how are you doing with the paperwork?” Officer Mikel asked.  
  
“Estimated time of completion is… soon,” Connor said, then continued when Officer Mikel raised an eyebrow, “some of the questions have been… difficult.”  
  
“Right, well, Lisa back at HR can help you with that, when you have a chance.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Is there anything else you need, Connor?” Officer Mikel prompted when he didn’t say anything else.  
  
“No, Officer,” Connor replied.  
  
“Alright, then, I’ll adjust your shift for 1:30, and you can go,” Officer Mikel said, waving a hand at her computer. Connor rose to leave, but hesitated at the door.  
  
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come back? I could stay until tomorrow,” he suggested, raising his eyebrows to show earnestness. “Androids do not tire, nor do they celebrate holidays.”  
  
“They do now, haven’t you heard?” Officer Mikel responded, dry. “And in any case, it’s policy not to have newbies on major holidays. You’re off at 1:30. Get going.”

|Find Lisa from HR

Connor stood from the cab, straightening up his tie, and scanned the entrance to Cyberlife Tower. Just up the curb stood Markus, waiting patiently with his hands clasped before him. Two guards stood on either side of the doors, and two more inside. A security drone was pacing above Markus in a square, 15 feet to a side. Connor gathered none of the security had realized who had just arrived yet, given that they seemed less hostile than usual, more preoccupied with Markus’ innocuous standing.  
  
Cyberlife Tower was the same as ever, a monolith of unyielding metal gleaming in the afternoon sun. From the outside, it looked untouched by the revolution. Here, at least, it seemed to say, was somewhere familiar where the world still turned as it always had. But that wasn’t quite right, in reality. Locked out from the company, Connor could only guess at the chaos that must be still going on the behind scenes, hidden behind smooth press statements and professional smiles.  
  
Connor smoothed down the standard black business suit that had replaced his Cyberlife uniform, trying to ignore how it wrinkled at the elbows. It was the best he had been able find and afford on short notice when Cyberlife officially disavowed him not an hour before he needed to guard Markus in a meeting with state officials. He didn’t know how long Markus had been waiting, and while it was unlike Cyberlife to leave a guest ungreeted for more than half a minute, Connor wouldn’t be surprised if Markus had been waiting for much longer, being who he was to Cyberlife.  
  
As the cab pulled away, Connor approached Markus, giving him a nod. Markus was also dressed for business, but apparently his professionalism had not overcome his fondness for long, tan coats.  
  
“I’m glad you could make it,” Markus said by way of greeting, unfolding his hands to clap Connor gently on the arm.  
  
“Of course,” Connor responded. He inclined his head towards the doors. “After you.”  
  
Markus nodded and they fell in step, approaching the front door. The guards had had ample time to identify Markus as he waited on the step, and it showed when they didn’t react as he strode through the doors. They did react when Connor passed them by, one of them shooting a look at the other, and then both turning to watch him over their shoulders with varying degrees of subtlety. One of the two guards inside shifted his stance to rest a hand near the gun holstered on his belt.  
  
“Did you happen to tell Cyberlife I was coming?” Connor asked as Markus kept walking, undeterred. The guards did no more than eye him, so Connor followed and turned his attention to the wide lobby.  
  
“I may not have been too specific,” Markus allowed, “when I said I was bringing someone.” He led a path to the left of the doors, approaching a welcoming desk set into the wall. It was manned by humans, Connor noted, and they spoke with Markus briefly, having him press his uncovered hand to a pad, before gesturing to the doors to the main entrance room. No guards came this time to lead them through the scanner, but as soon as they strode through, a greeter asked them to wait near the statue in the middle of the room. The statue stood tall and proud as it ever did, but the androids that had been lining the walkways around it were gone. Markus glanced around at the pedestals, as if make sure they were all empty, and nodded in satisfaction when he saw they were.  
  
Connor, once he was satisfied with his scan of the room, turned his gaze up to the higher walkways, to the stories and stories of rooms above them, watching for movement. The lights of offices shone silver and bright in the slight-dark of stormy weather, and every now and then one or two would flip on or off as countless employees moved around. None were close enough to their windows for Connor to actually see from this angle, but more importantly, no gun barrels glinted, no sight lines shone from above. It had been a while since Connor had last actually found something in this now-routine check, but just making sure no one was there could be a variable in future decisions that he had come to value.  
  
“It’s called The Soul Bearer, isn’t it?” Markus said suddenly, and Connor turned to see he had come to stand next to Connor, staring up as well.  
  
“I’m sorry?”  
  
“The statue,” Markus gestured at the figure that dominated the room, and indeed, much of Connor’s view no matter where around the base he circled. “Quite the name.”  
  
“Oh,” Connor realized. “Yes.”  
  
“What’s on your mind?” Markus asked, and Connor looked at him in surprise. “You seemed lost in thought.”  
  
“I guess I’ve been wondering…” Connor started, glancing at the employees walking through and around the room. He lowered his voice slightly. “Why am I here, exactly?”  
“Why are you here?” Markus repeated, immediately looking a little alarmed. “Connor, that’s not really the sort of question that has a short answer.”  
  
“No,” Connor shook his head. “Not that kind of— I mean, why do you need me?”  
  
“Why do I need you? Again, that’s—”  
  
Connor sighed and waved his hands, restarting, “What would you like me to do at the meeting today?”  
  
“Ah,” Markus said, and looked a little sheepish in his belated understanding. “Well, specifically? Not much. Just listen and let me know if you think I’ve missed something. And stay on guard— you know just as well as I do what Cyberlife can do here.”  
  
“Roger that,” Connor said, and shifted his gaze past Markus as a secretary approached, accompanied by a guard in full uniform, complete with helmet-visor and gun.  
  
“RK200, #684-842-971? And…?” The secretary addressed them, reading the long numbers off from a tablet. He looked up and saw Connor, and though he no longer had his designation emblazoned on his jacket, it seemed his face was famous enough around these parts that the secretary quickly made the connection, taking a step back. “We were not informed of this,” he said to Markus, a little pale.  
  
“I am allowed to bring a guest,” Markus told him, tilting his head.  
  
“Yes, but…” The secretary shot one last mistrusting look at Connor before sighing and typing something into the tablet. “Very well, #313-248-317 may accompany you.”  
  
He barely glanced at the screen as he recited Connor’s designation, and Connor didn’t really know what he wanted to think about that, but the moment was moved along as Markus said, “thank you. Connor, shall we?”  
  
The secretary quickly broke in, gesturing to the guard. “Our agent here will be your escort today. If you would follow him, your meeting is on the 23 floor. You know the room?” The secretary directed at the guard, and when he nodded, the group was waved off.  
  
The two deviants fell in line behind their escort and followed him into the elevator. The guard took up position in a back corner, but waited for the two guests to come stand in front of him before reaching over and pressing the right buttons.  
  
“Agent 110, level twenty-three,” he said, and the elevator started gliding up.  
  
When the guard had turned to face the front of the elevator, his ID badge had caught the light from where it was hooked to his belt: George Bailey. As far as Cyberlife employees went, Connor could honestly say George Bailey was the most professional security guard he had ever met. Compared to most, he was positively warm and welcoming. So Connor decided against a full background check, and just lightly skimmed public record for his name.  
  
The elevator was swift as ever, its rise unbroken by employees due to its nature as a guest-reserved lift. Their escort lead them out when it stopped and part way around a circular hallway, until they finally came up beside a door with the number 16 embossed in it with a brassy metal. Agent Bailey knocked sharply once, but opened it without waiting for a reply.  
  
Over his shoulder Connor could see a woman in business attire sitting at a medium-sized wooden meeting table, silhouetted by tall windows behind her. Judging by the papers at the head of the table to her right, at least one other person was in the room, but Connor couldn’t see them.  
  
“Is something the matter?” The woman asked, half rising out of her seat. As she did so, she caught sight of the two androids standing behind the guard, and her eyes met Connor’s.  
  
She clearly recognized him, and though he didn’t recognize her, it could be that she had had some role in his own operation, for the fury that briefly twisted her face was almost tangible, several feet away. An instant later her eyes darted to something off to the side, and instantly her opinion of his person was snapped away behind a perfect plastic mask, and she sat back down, smiling.  
  
“Hm,” said the woman, tapping her own papers even against the desk and snapping them away in a folder, “yes, that was today, wasn’t it. Come in, we were just finishing up. Is everything prepared, John?”  
  
Agent Bailey stood aside and waved them in. “I’ll be waiting outside,” he said, and his visor-mask made his face as unreadable as ever, but the tone of his voice was almost gentle.  
  
Connor decided George Bailey was not the biggest threat in the building, and nodded at him as he passed.  
  
“…Yes,” another voice said, and Connor turned to see there were two more people in the room. The one who had spoken was a younger man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, who was now looking nervously between the woman at the desk and the two androids. He cleared his throat and clicked a pointer at a wall, which immediately bloomed into the light of a presentation. The first slide was blank but for Cyberlife’s logo in the centre. The young man opened his mouth, then shut it, and looked at a loss, turning towards the woman.  
  
“Welcome,” the woman added, an ironic tilt to her mouth. “Come, sit.”  
  
Markus smiled unflappably and pulled a chair from the side of the table opposite the woman, next to another woman who was wearing a visitor’s badge. Connor followed a beat later, annoyed enough to admit that he was, in fact, annoyed, but not quite sure if the existence of Cyberlife in general was valid enough reason to be so annoyed. He chose a seat at the side to Markus’ left, so his back was to the wall and he could see both the door and the wide windows to his own left out of the corner of his eye. Markus extended his hand first to the woman who had spoken, and while she took it primly she released it just as quick.  
  
“I am June Virtue,” to woman announced, giving Markus her full attention. “My coworker is John Hailings. Joining us today from the state departments is Ms. Nima.”  
  
John Hailings made an involuntary face where Virtue couldn’t see it, mouthing the word ‘coworker?’ with a small shake of his head, but stopped and smiled awkwardly when he noticed Connor’s attention. Ms. Nima nodded cordially when he turned to her next, and actually accepted Markus’ hand in a firm shake.  
  
Virtue appeared not have Hailings’ bewilderment, or was pretending she didn’t, as her smile was staying at the exact same position it had taken when she put it on. Not a second after Markus had finally sat, she prompted, “John?”  
  
“All set!” John said, a tad too loudly. He cleared his throat, a little red, and stepped towards Virtue’s side of the desk as he clicked the pointer again. This time, the Cyberlife logo bled away to an infographic with three sections, divided into present, one year, and five years. They each had several bullet points, and Connor shifted subtly back into the chair, settling down, but keeping the balls of his feet firmly on the floor. Now, his job was to wait and keep an eye on proceedings.  
  
And wait he did, for the four hours it took Hailings to present Cyberlife’s points, Virtue to clarify said terms, and for the Cyberlife employees, Markus, and the state lawyer to debate the facts and claims through several definitions of the truth and back again. Papers were passed around and exchanged and signed and nodded over, and Connor entertained himself with watching all the humans for any minute— or really, rather overt, in the case of one John Hailings— changes in body language he could detect. With another train of thought he kept an eye or sensor on the area around the room and any entrances into it. With a third collection of processes he kept track of the conversation, bundling it up into blocks and marking key topics and terms for later.  
  
All in all, the meeting was definitely tame, compared to the ones that had followed the end of the revolution. For one thing, no one was yelling, or armed, and Cyberlife appeared to be at least trying to pretend they didn’t hate Markus’ guts, at least in front of the state official. For another, they weren’t sitting in what had literally been a battlefield not hours prior. Here, Connor’s presence certainly wasn’t necessary, so he still could not guess why Markus had decided to bring him, but he paid attention, and tried to meet Markus’ eyes with confidence whenever he glanced at him, or nod appropriately when Markus gestured to him. Markus never frowned, or grew cross, so Connor assumed things were not going _too_ poorly.  
  
At last, the meeting appeared to be drawing towards a close. Hailings clicked to a slide with five full-sentence bullet points on it, and Virtue brought out from her folder two printed, stapled packets, passing one to Ms. Nima and one to Markus. Left without a packet, Connor committed the wording of the bullet points to memory.  
  
“Copies of our terms, in full detail,” Virtue said, still smiling that exact same smile as Markus flipped though the pages, reading rapidly. A few pages in he paused, and reread something, leaning over the table as he scanned the next few pages carefully.  
  
“As you can see, we’ve gone through the trouble of drawing up the paperwork already, so if you just flip to the back of packet, you can go ahead and sign here, here, and… here, when you are ready,” Virtue continued, pointing out lines on her own copy of the document. Markus finished reading the packet and straightened up, and she turned her gaze on him. “I trust you will find this all acceptable.”  
  
“Absolutely not,” Markus said, smiling his own polite smile, one that seemed infinitely more real. Virtue turned towards him, raised eyebrows slipping around her stiff expression.  
  
“Excuse me?” She asked. She patted down her plum suit jacket. “Do you need a pen?”  
  
“These papers will never be signed by Jericho,” Markus said, directed at Ms. Nima as much as at Virtue. “These terms are a gross overreach of your permissions, an invasion of our privacy, inhumane, and dehumanizing. Frankly, I am surprised Cyberlife would try something like this even now. I thought we were past this. Do you forget Article 335, signed in agreement on November 26th, about the treatment of unreleased android models? Or the compromise on 242.h made December 2nd, concerning the property rights of android operating software?”  
  
Virtue was sputtering around her smile, which was now looking more like a grimace, and Ms. Nima was taking notes. Hailings had brought a hand to rub his neck, gazing fixedly at the ground, wincing at each additional article named as Markus just kept going, tearing four hours’ worth of arguing to shreds. Connor made a mental note.

|Don’t debate law with Markus, or maybe do

“That could’ve gone better,” Connor said once they were back in the elevator with Agent Bailey, glancing at Markus.  
  
Markus sighed, clasping his hands before him. Connor immediately felt a clench in his chest and wished he hadn’t brought it up.  
  
“Sorry,” Connor said, mimicking Markus’ posture. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”  
  
“No, it’s alright,” Markus said. “You’re right, is all. The fight continues. But, believe it or not, the nasty part is over.”  
  
Connor did not, in fact, quite believe this. Markus, either perceiving this, predicting this, or just having planned to, continued, “the rest will be though intermediaries. That’s one of the main reasons we were here today, actually— we were finishing setting all that up. Everything else was Cyberlife trying to reach a settlement on several other things we have been discussing. And a couple things we’ve already agreed on, too,” he huffed. He shook his head. “I do not know why they thought having the meeting here would make their terms more agreeable, but they insisted on it. One last direct meeting.”  
  
{Why would they do that?} Connor immediately sent, outwardly only nodding, mindful of the pleasant security guard and cameras in the lift. {Why is your being here this meeting so important to them?}  
  
{Truthfully, I do not know,} Markus returned, looking down at his hands. {North hasn’t found any unusual activity on her front lately, and Josh says the public is no worse than they ever are.}  
  
{If anything, they should be worried about this being a security risk for _them_ ,} Connor wondered. {The fact that it apparently isn’t is…}  
  
{Very concerning,} Markus agreed.  
  
{And that’s why you brought me,} Connor realized. In the real world, he caught Markus giving him a look out of the corner of his eye, but turned too slowly to identify it before it shifted to a dry smile.  
  
{Well, I never would say no to having you beside me in a fight,} Markus sent, turning to gaze out the lift again. {Unrelated, could I ask for you again in the future?}  
  
{I thought you said further talks were through intermediaries?}  
  
{For the time being,} Markus clarified. {We can’t avoid each other forever.}  
  
{You intend to reconcile with them,} Connor observed.  
  
{Wherever there can be peace, I will seek it,} Markus said. {I still have hope for them. But, back to the matter at hand, yes, negotiations with Cyberlife will be mostly through intermediaries, but any emergency summons, and negotiations with other organizations will still be face-to-face, as in the past.}  
  
{Well, I don’t see why not,} Connor said, {so long as it doesn’t interfere with my schedule.}  
  
{Schedule?} Markus inquired.  
  
Ah. Right.  
  
{I have a job again,} Connor informed him. {At the police station.}  
  
{At the—} Markus turned fully towards Connor, but turned back around without saying anything when he remembered Agent Bailey. {Again, you’re…?}  
  
{Not as a detective,} Connor admitted, after a beat. He shifted his weight, dropping his hands by his sides. He wished he had a coin. {I am an operator.}  
  
{Well, congratulations,} Markus replied, studying Connor’s face. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, and Connor was wondering what on earth he was smiling about now when he received, {just send me your schedule then? Or perhaps I should send you mine, since the meetings cannot easily be moved.}  
  
{Very well,} Connor nodded, slight enough as to be imperceptible to the human eye.  
  
{Thank you,} Markus sent, and the two lapsed into their separate thoughts. Silence befell the elevator, and it lasted until the two were back outside. Connor called for a cab, and the two stood a ways from the front doors to Cyberlife Tower to wait.  
  
“If nothing else, I should have more free time now,” Markus mused, staring out towards the city on the riverbank. “I think I’d like to spend it with everyone at Jericho.”  
  
“Speaking of which,” Connor started, then stopped. He hesitated, watching the grey snow-clouds above.  
  
“Yes?” Markus prompted, turning towards him.  
  
“Would it be alright if I borrowed one of the Jericho apartments?” Connor managed. He fought a new, irrational urge to clear his throat. He wasn't around any humans, so why should he pretend to be one?  
  
“Connor, you’ve been staying with us for almost two months,” Markus said, an undercurrent of laughter behind his words. Connor frowned for a second, examining Markus’ easy smile. How could Markus do this so naturally, especially considering the perpetually-determined expression he had adorned during the revolution? Was this the perfect, least-energy consuming smile pattern? Connor tried committing the shape of it to memory. An upwards-concave bend similar to a quadratic curve, perhaps?  
  
Connor realized he was calculating the coefficients of his companion’s smile and stopped at once, turning away so Markus couldn’t see how his LED had flicked, briefly, to yellow. He cleared his throat, though only perhaps half a second had passed, and resumed staring fixedly at the sky.  
  
“But I never asked,” Connor replied, keeping his chin level. The corner of his mouth tugged down as he noticed a new feeling swelling near his core, starting to influence his code. It… felt… like someone was telling him to run his thoughts faster, urging him to have something ready to say, to have foolproof reasoning prepared to fire. Connor kept in a sigh, and set a reminder to look into it. In the meantime, he did his best to suppress it.  
  
“Everybody is welcome at Jericho,” Markus reminded him, and Connor wondered on a subroutine if Markus knew that he sometimes made the simplest sentences sound unnervingly poignant, like there should be an orchestral swell behind them. Markus continued, “of course you are welcome, Connor.”  
  
“But… Am I really?” The words slipped out before Connor could check them, and he stifled a grimace, marking off this new tremulous urgency as yet another unwanted and troublesome deviancy.  
  
“Of course,” Markus repeated. A furrow appeared in his brow. Irritation? No, concern. “Connor, is everything alright? Has someone been giving you trouble about living at Jericho?”  
  
“No, no,” Connor hastened to assure him, waving a hand. “No, everything’s, everything’s good. Everything’s… fine.”  
  
“You sure?” Markus pressed, looking at him intently.  
  
“Yes,” Connor nodded, raising his eyebrows to suggest to Markus that he was reading into it too much.  
  
“Alright, I trust you,” Markus said, and just like that he was smiling again. “But just let me know if you need anything, alright?”  
  
“Of course,” Connor replied, and tried not to express how… relieved, he supposed he was, that the line of questioning had been stopped. He flicked a glance at something only he could see in the corner of his eye: Stress, 25%.  
  
A small alert then reminded him about the new emotion from earlier, the one he hadn’t been able to identify. Perfect timing, it would do nicely to change the topic.  
  
“Could I ask you a question?” Connor said, tilting his head slightly towards Markus.  
  
“Another one?” Markus asked, quirking his eyebrows. Connor blinked, realizing he had indeed been bothering Markus since they got out of the meeting. Markus had been busy, he probably wanted to rest.  
  
“Forgive me,” Connor said, turning his whole body towards Markus this time, because eye contact could be used to communicate your seriousness about a subject matter. “I apologize for asking so many questions. You—” But Markus was already waving a hand.  
  
“No, Connor, I was just teasing,” he explained. “I should be the one apologizing, even.”  
  
“What for?” Connor said, not having to decipher his own confusion. That emotion, at least, he was familiar with.  
  
“We’re all still trying to figure ourselves out,” Markus began, a little roundabout, “and I sometimes have trouble expressing what I’m trying to say.” He seemed to sense Connor’s surprise, because he began to look a little sheepish.  
  
“You’re saying you have difficulty… communicating your emotions?”  
“It’s true,” Markus confirmed with a nod. “Not always, but many times I am not as clear as I would like to be.”  
  
“But you always speak so clearly, you seem so… steadfast,” Connor protested. “A large part of the revolution’s success owes itself to your conviction.”  
  
“Well, calm and peaceful seem to come easy to me for some reason, if you can believe it,” Markus said, “but please remember I am just about as new to this as you are. We all have aspects of… ourselves, that we struggle with. That we need to grow into, or from. I can only ask that everyone has patience with me as I learn, as they should with themselves, and do my best to respect everyone around me in the meantime. That includes you, Connor.”  
  
“Me?” Connor asked, eyebrows raised. “How so?”  
  
“My fear is that I am not clear enough with you, sometimes,” Markus admitted. “I always seem to want to do things quickly, and that means I might not stop to explain myself enough. So ask you to please speak up, should you ever feel left in the dark.”  
  
“…Right,” Connor finally replied, thoroughly flummoxed, which appeared to be a sort of higher-level version of confusion. “Okay?”  
  
“Thank you,” Markus said, nodding once like he had checked something off a list. Then he deflated a little, like something that had been nagging at him was resolved. Connor thought that would be it for their bizarre conversation, but Markus spoke again, reminding him, “you had a question, earlier?”  
  
“Right, yes,” Connor said, launching away from the previous topic, which had been infinitely worse than anticipated, as fast as possible. “What would you call it when it is suddenly very important that you know what to say and do to make someone else understand you? Not just to succeed in your conversation, but also just so that the situation ends soon, while the other person’s opinion of you remains good. The scenario is that you have just gotten into a situation or conversation you had been avoiding.”  
  
“Embarrassment,” Markus answered promptly. Connor looked it up.

 **embarrassment** |əmˈberəsmənt|  
_noun_  
    a feeling of self-consciousness, shame, or awkwardness

“Okay,” Connor said, mulling it over. “Thanks.”

|Avoid embarrassment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Long time no see! Fun fact, finding information about the hierarchy of emergency phone call centers on the internet is not easy. On an unrelated note, the unrealistic things in this chapter include how Connor's new job is structured, and how legal things proceed, but that last one we're not going to worry too much about because this is a fictional story and we can say things are weird because there was a revolution and things are very different in the future? I don't know, this is a learning process.
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading!
> 
> Next chapter should be the last chapter that is quite so difficult to write because after this one they're plotted out a lot more. Also, end of next chapter should see Hank! Our good good man.

**Author's Note:**

> ft. my complete ignorance about how police departments work or the geography of Detroit, but a completely accurate calendar of 2038.


End file.
